Now him that is weak in the faith receive, not to [the] determining of questions of reasoning.
Romans 14 turns from doctrine to daily life: how believers treat each other when they disagree. It opens with a command rather than a debate — welcome the one who is weak in faith, and do not drag him into arguments.
The word "weak" is often taken as an excuse for careless living. One writer rules that out:
The words "the one who is weak in faith" do not mean someone who treats sin lightly — people often apply them that way, to drunkenness and the like. They mean a believer who, because of prejudices left over from the law, was anxious about days, foods, and so on. The question is about ritual, not morals.
So what is he short of? Not love for Christ, but a full grasp of where he stands:
Those weak in the faith knew Christ and loved Him, but they did not yet fully know their position in Christ. They did not realise that keeping certain days, or avoiding certain foods and drinks, could not affect their salvation in any way. They had worries and troubled consciences, as God's people still do.
The command rests on the fact of a person's faith, not on the size of it:
"Welcome the one who is weak in faith." That is the plain, direct command of the Lord. He knows His sheep, and He will reject no one who truly comes to Him (John 6:37). We receive him as a believer, whatever the degree or measure of his faith. That measure can vary widely. There are babies who need milk, as well as grown men who eat solid food (Heb. 5:12-14).
This welcome starts in the heart:
Receiving those weak in the faith (Rom. 14:1) means nothing more than this: do not reject them in heart and spirit because they were weak about Jewish prejudices and the like. One man ate herbs, another meat. One man kept Good Friday — so to speak. Own them warmly, as you would anyone else. Only do not puzzle them with mere questions they cannot bear.
The second half of the verse blocks a common abuse: welcoming someone so you can sort out his opinions. The cure for weak faith is teaching, not debate:
We are not to receive them so that we can start arguing over points of difference. Such arguments would indeed be a "quarrel over opinions," or, in another rendering, the "determining of questions of reasoning." Those who are strong must remember something: the "weak" brother is weak in his grasp of "the faith," not in his power to reason. So what he needs is a larger understanding of the whole truth of God. Teach him that with patience, and many of these questions will settle themselves.
The command cuts both ways, and neither side may use reception as leverage:
The one received must not think that his welcome also welcomes his own views about foods or days. And those who receive a man with a conscience about such things must not use the occasion to interfere with his convictions before the Lord.
The verse guards against error on both flanks:
We may make a mistake either way. We may grow so narrow that we reject a brother who is weak in faith. Or we may turn our welcome of a fault-finding person into a settling of doubtful questions and speculative reasonings. The Holy Spirit would have us avoid both extremes with care.
So if agreement on side issues is not the test, what is?
If a soul is weak in the faith this way, that is no reason at all to dispute with him. Let us instead see where a man's heart is toward the Person of the Lord: the rest is of no real consequence. As he gains experience and learns more of the blessed Word of God, much that is unnecessary will drop off. The subject in Romans is not reception to the breaking of bread, though the truth here certainly bears on it. "Receiving" is showing fellowship as one Christian to another. Nothing looks worse than arguing over points of no importance when Christians meet face to face.
- Weak, not wayward — he is careful about ritual matters like days and foods, not loose about sin. The question is ritual, never moral.
- Weak in grasp, not in mind — his problem is a small hold on the truth of God, so teaching, not arguing, is the remedy.
- Received on faith alone — we welcome him because he believes, whatever the measure of that faith. Babies and grown men both belong.
- Welcome without conditions — welcoming him does not approve his opinions. It gives no one the right to overrule his conscience.
- Two ditches, one road — refusing him is too narrow. Cross-examining him goes too far. The road between: see where his heart stands toward Christ, and leave the rest to grow.
One man is assured that he may eat all things; but the weak eats herbs.
Paul turns to two believers at one table who hold opposite convictions about food. He calls one of them "weak," yet never tells him to change his diet — so what do believers owe each other when their consciences differ?
The word "weak" here is often misapplied to someone loose about sin.
By "him who is weak in the faith," Paul does not mean someone who would trifle with sin. People often apply the phrase that way — to drunkenness and the like. He means a believer who, from prejudices left over from the law, was strict about days, meats, and similar things. The question is about ritual, not morals.
The believers in Rome came from two very different backgrounds. Each one carried its own temptation.
It was difficult for a Jew to rid himself of the sense of difference between days and between meats. A Gentile, having abandoned his whole religious system as idolatrous, held to nothing. Here human nature can sin on both sides — a lack of conscience, an unbridled will, and a ceremonial conscience. Christianity recognises neither of these things. It delivers us from the question of days and meats by making us heavenly with Christ. But it teaches us to bear with conscientious weakness, and to be conscientious ourselves. Conscience cannot, and has no right to, prescribe some new thing to us as a duty. But through ignorance it may hold on to a traditional thing as binding.
Being right does not make you safe. Each of these two men has his own way of going wrong about the other.
No doubt the one who believed he could eat all things thought far more rightly than the one who made a point of eating vegetables. Still, such prejudices, or their absence, gave no ground for making little of the weak or for judging the strong. There was a double danger. The one who knew his liberty might despise the man with scruples. The man with scruples might judge the free man harshly. But such weakness is no more foolish than such strength is careless — just as God's love is always holy and always free.
The chapter never settles the menu. It works on something else instead.
Paul's main question is not "Who is right?" or even "What is right?" It is this: "How can we deal with our brothers and sisters in a Christian and Christ-honouring way?" For the strong brother, that raises a further question. Will he use his Christian liberty, and how? When would it be better to give it up? For the weak brother, it raises the question of whether he should judge others by his own conscience.
Welcoming someone does not mean you take on his convictions. It also does not give you a licence to work on him until he drops them.
So do not shun the weak in the faith; receive them. Still, no one should use that welcome as a way to settle mere questions. The one who is received must not think that this welcome takes in his particular views about meats or days. And when you receive someone who has a conscience about these things, do not use the moment to interfere with his convictions before the Lord.
Neither man earned his place by his diet. So neither may use his diet against the other.
The strong are to receive the weak in the faith, and the weak are to receive the strong. Both alike are debtors to grace. This principle shows us how very tender we should be with the scruples of a fellow believer. It also shows how very slow we should be to judge someone who allows himself more liberty than we allow ourselves.
We owe patience to a person's private conscience. We do not owe it to a rule pressed on everyone else.
A person may have faith about certain things, and perfect liberty in his own mind — about days, or foods, or many other minor things. But his faith or his liberty should not lead him to act in a way that stumbles his weak brother. This is the spirit and teaching of this whole beautiful chapter. Of course, someone might try to force a yoke on the necks of the disciples — eating only vegetables, keeping away from meats, or observing days. Then it would be our place to resist with uncompromising decision.
- Weak, not wayward. The difference here is about ritual, not morals — days and foods, never drunkenness or sin.
- Weak, and right to be careful. You cannot overrule a conscience shaped by an old background. Christianity teaches us to bear with weak consciences — and to be conscientious ourselves.
- Weak and strong both stumble. One is tempted to despise, the other to judge. Weakness is not folly, and strength is not carelessness.
- Weak, yet received. Both stand as debtors to grace. So the welcome never depends on the plate, and never comes with terms.
- Weak consciences, not weak rules. We owe patience to a brother's private scruple. But when someone forces that scruple on everyone as a yoke, we resist it.
Let not him that eats make little of him that eats not; and let not him that eats not judge him that eats for God has received him.
Paul is writing to believers who disagreed about food. One man ate freely, another kept to vegetables — and each had a distinct way of wronging the other.
The verse names two faults, not one, and each belongs to a different man:
When we judge things differently, our first natural impulse is to start interfering with one another. The one who eats will despise the one who does not eat. Such scruples look narrow-minded in the extreme to him. The one who does not eat will judge and condemn the eater. He can see that freedom only as licence taken without any right.
Paul does not settle the argument by naming a winner. One view is better informed, yet neither man may correct the other:
No doubt the man who believed he could eat anything was far more right in his thinking than the man who ate only vegetables. Still, such prejudices, or the lack of them, gave no ground for making little of the weak or for judging the strong. There was a double danger of fault. The man who knew his liberty might despise the careful man, and the careful man might judge the free. But that weakness is no more folly than that strength is looseness, just as divine love is always holy while always free. God has received the believer. This is said with emphasis about the man whom the weak judged to be taking too much licence.
Weakness here is not sin and not unbelief. It is a limited grasp of what belonging to Christ already secures:
Those weak in the faith did not have the complete knowledge of their position in Christ, though they knew Christ and loved Him. They did not realise that certain observances of days, or abstinences from meats and drinks, could not affect their salvation in any way. There were scruples and conscientious difficulties, as there still are among God's people.
The difficulty is conscience, not rebellion. One writer draws the line between a man who is mistaken and a man who is corrupt:
An ignorant conscience is a very different thing from a defiled conscience... But the case is very different for the man who holds impressions that may be quite mistaken, far from what fuller light would produce. He still walks with pure intent under those impressions, as under a yoke God has placed on his neck.
Paul ends the dispute by pointing away from both men to God. God did not receive either man because of his diet:
The Apostle instructs us that in such matters there is to be mutual forbearance. For this he gives three reasons. First, God has received both the weak and the strong. His reception of us did not depend upon our eating, or not eating, certain foods. Secondly, in such matters we stand or fall to our own Master, and we are not to judge another man's servants. Thirdly, the Lord is able to sustain us and make us stand, even if in such matters we are weak in the faith.
Reception runs both ways, and it rests on the same ground for each man:
The strong is to receive the weak in the faith, and the weak is to receive the strong, because both alike are debtors to grace. This principle shows how very tender we should be with the scruples of a fellow believer. It also shows how very slow we should be to judge someone who takes more liberty than we allow ourselves.
The problem is not the position either man holds. It is the office each one claims over the other:
The thing that is really unwarranted is not the apparent narrow vision of the one, nor the apparent wide licence of the other. It is taking up the work of a judge, which belongs to the great Master of us all alone.
Commentators warn against stretching this verse beyond food and days. It is not a permission to believe anything we like:
We must remember, of course, that the Apostle is not raising any question about doctrine here. He is not speaking of the faith. We are not free to believe what we like. A faith has been revealed and committed to us. If a question arises about truth or doctrine, revelation is the only appeal.
The freedom also collapses the moment one side tries to make its scruple binding on everyone:
Of course, someone might try to force the eating of vegetables, the avoiding of meat, or the keeping of days on the necks of the disciples as a yoke. Then it would be our place to resist without compromise.
- Received first. God received both men, and His welcome never rested on what they ate.
- Received differently. One is weak: he has not yet grasped his position in Christ. The other is strong. Yet that strength is no more a merit than that weakness is a folly.
- Received mutually. Both are debtors to grace. So the strong receives the careful man, and the careful man receives the free.
- Received by a Master. To despise or to condemn is to take a seat that belongs to the Master alone. Each servant stands or falls before Him.
- Received, not unlimited. This covers scruples, not doctrine. It ends where anyone tries to bind his scruple on another's neck.
Who art *thou* that judgest the servant of another? to his own master he stands or falls. And he shall be made to stand; for the Lord is able to make him stand.
Paul is writing to believers in Rome who disagreed over food and sacred days. Each side had begun to look down on the other. Into that quarrel he puts a question that takes the case out of human hands: the person you criticise belongs to someone else.
The word Paul uses for "servant" here comes from the life of a household:
oiketes, "household servant." Luke 16:13; Acts 10:7; Rom. 14:4; 1 Peter 2:18.
So the objection is not that either side had the wrong opinion. It is that both had taken up a role that was never theirs:
"Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another?" asks the Apostle. What a fitting question! The thing that is truly out of order is neither the seeming narrowness of the one nor the seeming looseness of the other. It is taking up the judge's role, which belongs to the great Master of us all alone. To that Master we stand or fall, and we can count on His support, as the last part of the verse says, to our encouragement.
Stepping into that place is not simply rude to the brother. It reaches past him:
In the first place, conscience decides what is right and what is wrong, as far as it goes, and a man acts at his own peril. Note this too. A man may get light from God's revelation, but God is and will be the final judge, and the conscience must regard Him so. Conscience answers to God directly. No one can step in between the conscience and God so as to destroy God's right. The apostle asks, "Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls." To come in between God and the conscience is not to touch man's rights, but God's.
Read with the verse before it, this one supplies a chain of arguments:
The Apostle instructs us that, in such matters, there is to be mutual forbearance. For this he gives three reasons. First, God has received both, the weak and the strong. His reception of us did not depend upon our eating, or not eating, certain meats. Second, in such matters we stand or fall to our own Master, and we are not to judge another man's servants. Third, the Lord is able to hold us up and make us stand, even if in such matters we are weak in the faith.
The last clause is not a throwaway. Critics tend to predict where a brother's freedom will end up, and Paul answers the prediction directly:
He adds a lovely word, no doubt in answer to many a bitter guess about where their liberty would end: "And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand." For the strong have no strength of their own, but grace will hold them up. Would we want it any other way, if we could? Do we not delight that all is from Him?
Paul lived by this himself. Apollos would not fall in with his wish, and Paul let it rest:
He might have insisted that, as the apostle of the Gentiles, Apollos should bow to his wish. Instead, he accepts that Apollos had a will in the matter. Apollos was responsible to the Lord, not to Paul, for where he went in His service. Here we learn a lesson: one servant of the Lord should not try to force his will on another servant, but should leave each one to act before the Lord.
Commentators warn against stretching the verse. It covers personal scruples, not forcing them on others:
A man may have faith about certain things and perfect liberty in his own mind, whether about days or foods or many other minor things. But his faith or his liberty should not lead him to act in a way that trips up his weak brother. This is the spirit and teaching of this whole beautiful chapter, this lovely summary of Christian morals. Of course, if anyone tried to force the eating of herbs, abstinence from meats or the keeping of days on the disciples as a yoke, it would be our place to resist without compromise.
- Received — the argument starts where God started. He received both the strong and the weak, and food was never the condition.
- Owned — the word is "household servant." He belongs to another home, and his own Master settles whether he stands or falls.
- Trespass — pushing in between a conscience and God does not injure a man's rights; it injures God's.
- Upheld — the sentence ends in grace, not in warning. The strong have no strength of their own, and the Lord is able to hold up the weak.
- Limit — leave liberty free, but never turn it into a yoke. When anyone presses his scruples on others as law, resist it.
One man esteems day more than day; another esteems every day [alike]. Let each be fully persuaded in his own mind.
Paul turns from big doctrine to a small argument about the calendar: some believers kept certain days as special, while others treated every day the same. The real question is not who was right, but why God left the matter open — and how believers should treat each other when they disagree.
This concern had a history. Jewish believers had grown up in a system where God Himself had set certain days apart.
It is easy to see where keeping special days came from: Judaism. God had set those days up in that system of things — but only as pictures of better things to come, and not as having any spiritual value in themselves. Yet if some believers still held on, to some degree, to keeping those days because their conscience required it of them, no one should make an issue of it. And they must not be allowed to demand it of others.
Commentators are careful to say what this verse does not cover. They put the first day of the week on settled ground:
It is worth seeing that the Apostle is not speaking about the Lord's day. Keeping the first day of the week as the Lord's day has the backing of Scripture. It is not left as an open matter (see John 20:19; Acts 20:7; 1 Corinthians 16:2; Revelation 1:10).
The freedom in this verse is not freedom to do as you like. It comes from belonging to one Master.
In matters like these — personal behaviour and service to the Lord done from conscience — Christ's higher lordship sets us free from the rule of fellow believers. We may be right or wrong in our judgment. What matters most is that each of us, with a single eye for our Master, does what we believe pleases Him. The instruction that hangs on this is, "Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind."
If Scripture had given a plain command, no one would need persuading. God leaves some questions open on purpose, and that puts each believer alone before Him.
God means each of us to face such matters before Him, each one for himself. If Scripture gave a clear command, there would be no need for that exercise. Then simple obedience is the only course that pleases God. But how many other matters there are! Should I go here or there? Should I take part in this or that? May I enjoy this pleasure or not? … What bitter and harmful arguments have raged around such questions! And the answer is so simple. Stop the quarrelling! Hands off each other! Let each man go to his own knees, in the presence of his own Master, so that he may learn, as far as he is able, what his Master wants.
Two people cannot both be right about the same day. But both can act out of loyalty, and God weighs that.
The Lord has one mind, so it cannot point in two opposite directions. Yet whether they acted or held back, loyalty to the Lord guided both of them, as far as they understood His mind. That pleased Him, and it counted for more than getting the point right.
This tolerance has a boundary. In Galatians the same practice gets a very different answer, because there people kept days in order to gain blessing.
They were keeping days and months and seasons and years, as if an outward ritual could secure blessing — a ritual that even an unconverted person could carry out, whether Jew or pagan. It is true that in his letter to the Romans the Apostle urges believers who are not Jews to bear with a Jewish believer who still holds on to keeping special days and refusing certain foods. But here he shows that if such a believer goes back to the system of keeping certain days and ceremonies, he returns not only to Judaism but to pagan idol worship.
The standard is personal conviction. So pushing someone into your practice does him real harm.
To press my faith on someone else would all but destroy his own exercise of faith. If I stand before God, then let every believer stand before God too… The one who doubts is condemned if he eats, because he does not eat with the full freedom of personal faith. If we really care about a fellow believer, we will do all we can to see him act only in faith.
- Persuaded, not pressured — where Scripture gives no command, God wants each believer settled in his own mind before Him, not pushed there by someone else.
- Persuaded about what — open questions like food and special days. The Lord's day is not one of them; Scripture settles that.
- Persuaded before whom — one Master sets you free from a fellow believer's judgment. Keep a single eye on what pleases Him.
- Persuaded together — two believers can act in opposite ways and both be loyal. God counts that loyalty for more than being right.
- Persuaded, or harmed — press your freedom on a doubting believer and you rob him of his own faith. Patience ends only where days are taught as a system you must keep.
He that regards the day, regards it to [the] Lord. And he that eats, eats to [the] Lord, for he gives God thanks; and he that does not eat, [it is] to [the] Lord he does not eat, and gives God thanks.
Some believers ate meat; others would not. Some kept special days; others kept none. The verse settles the dispute without saying who was right. Its repeated phrase — "in honor of the Lord" — points past the practice to the Lord Himself. Both sides end up giving thanks to God.
Both sides act toward the same Lord. So the call is not to match each other, but to bear with each other. That also leaves the door open to learn more later.
In such matters believers must bear with each other. They all agree in doing what they do to the Lord, even though they differ in judging what to do. This leaves room for growth in knowledge as the word of God opens to our faith, while their conscience is still respected.
Two people who act in opposite ways cannot both read the Lord's mind correctly. Yet the verse commends both. So something other than being right counts here.
The verse shows that the one who regards the day, or who eats, does so to the Lord. The one who does not regard the day, or does not eat, holds back to the Lord just the same. The mind of the Lord is one, and it cannot lie in two opposite directions. But whether they acted or did not act, loyalty to the Lord governed both, as far as each understood His mind. This pleased Him, and it counted for more than being correct in understanding.
The verse gives one visible sign that a choice points to the Lord: the person can thank God for it. This test works either way.
If a man feels that the Lord's authority calls him to keep other days carefully, let him not ignore his conscience. Let every man be fully sure in his own mind about the Lord's authority over him. Let him gladly seek to own that authority in practice. Whether he eats or refrains from eating, let it be with a heart that can freely give God thanks.
This chapter does not permit anything and everything. The subject is narrow, and the "weak" believer is not the careless one.
Keep this carefully in mind. What the Holy Spirit lays down here does not refer to matters of moral good or evil, nor to doctrine or revelation. It refers to questions that grew out of the remains of Jewish feeling. In other words, "the weak" brother loved Christ and hated sin no less truly than "the strong." The weak were not lax, but the opposite: they were extremely and painfully careful, and so they worried about eating meat or keeping a day.
The verse leaves the choice of days open, so it matters which days are meant. One day is not part of the discussion.
It is well to see that the Apostle is not speaking of the Lord's day. Scripture itself sanctions keeping the first day of the week as the Lord's day. It is not left as an open matter. (See John 20:19; Acts 20:7; 1 Corinthians 16:2; Revelation 1:10.)
The first people in view had grown up with Jewish observances. The same thing happens whenever believers come in with a conscience about forms they grew up with.
There are many even Gentiles in our own day who are in a very similar position. They grew up with forms and ceremonies, and their conscience tells them to keep them. We are to bear with these saints, and remember they keep the day as to the Lord. We sometimes hear very bitter things said against those who keep Christmas day… But many dear children of God value this day above other days. They do it not in the spirit of Galatians 4, but in the spirit of Romans 14.
Because both sides act for the Lord, neither one should judge the other. But there is a limit. Bearing with a private conscience is one thing; teaching it as a rule for everyone is another.
The weak regard the day for the Lord's sake; the others do not regard it because of the Lord. This is the reason for not judging. The one I judge is the Lord's… But this principle can be turned the other way, when people use such observances to destroy liberty in Christ. For that, see Galatians 4. There the apostle shows that if someone teaches the observance as a principle, it is really turning back to paganism.
- Aim — The keeper and the non-keeper act toward the same Lord. The verse names the aim, not the action.
- Loyalty — Two opposite practices cannot both match His mind. Yet loyalty, as far as each one understands Him, pleases Him more than being right.
- Thanks — Both sides give God thanks. That is the sign the choice was aimed at Him: if you cannot thank Him for it, do not do it.
- Scope — The subject is worries over food and days, not morals or doctrine. The "weak" here love Christ and hate sin. They are over-careful, not careless.
- Limit — Bearing with others covers a private conscience. When someone teaches an observance as a rule for all, Galatians 4 applies instead.
For none of us lives to himself, and none dies to himself.
Paul is writing to believers who disagree about food and holy days. He answers with a principle that reaches into every part of life: no one's living, and no one's dying, is a private matter. If both belong to the Lord, who has the right to judge a fellow servant? And what changes in daily life when self is no longer the centre?
The verse is not a general saying dropped into the chapter. It is Paul's reason for dropping the habit of judging other believers over disputed matters.
No one lives to himself, and no one dies to himself; we are the Lord's. The weak keep the special day for the Lord's sake; the others do not keep it, and that too is for the Lord. So this is the reason for not judging. He whom I judge is the Lord's.
To live "to" something is to make it the aim of your life. One writer asks how we judged everything before we came to God.
God has brought us to Himself. Before we were converted we did live to ourselves, and we could not have done anything else. Sin ruled us, so "self" was the great aim and object of our life. How did we judge everything back then? Like this: Does it please me? Does it suit my taste? Do I like that? Will it advance my interests even a little?
The old aim is not replaced by a rule but by a Person. The same writer says this is why Christ died for us.
Our Saviour died for us so that we might be turned right away from the old kind of life and find a life with a completely new Object and Aim. We no longer live to ourselves, but to Him who died and rose again... How wonderful to be set free from self and centred on Him!
Why can no one claim his life as his own? Because it was bought. One writer warns that Christian fellowship goes wrong wherever this is forgotten.
The seventh verse states in short the ruling principle and guiding rule of proper Christian life. Fellowship and life shared together can never truly come from the Spirit of God where this principle is forgotten or blurred... He lives because he is the Lord's, not his own. Living, therefore, or dying, he is the Lord's — His own, at the paid price of His most precious blood.
Both the one who keeps the day and the one who does not may be acting for the Lord. So who has the right to judge?
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death. Living or dying, it is to Him. Either way we are His. This rests on His own dying and living again in resurrection — the great teaching of this letter and the foundation of Christianity. So He is Lord of all, dead and living. And so we must be careful about meddling with His rights.
The second half of the verse speaks to those who mourn. Death does not end the Lord's ownership of His people.
What comforting words these are for people who have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ and can say, "We are the Lord's." Death will not carry us beyond His reach. He will still be our Lord, for He is Lord of both the dead and the living. Here is comfort for those who mourn their dead. They have passed beyond your sight, but not beyond His. They are no longer in your care, but He keeps them safe.
If my life is not my own, it is not lived alone either. Every believer affects the rest, whether he means to or not.
There is no such thing as a person without influence. The simplest believer is either a link that helps bind the Body closer to its Head, or something that weakens that tie. As the word of God says, "None of us lives to himself." We are the Lord's, and in that sense we belong to His people too... every day and every hour we live is simply a chance to bind God's people closer to Him, or to push them further apart.
- Bought — the believer is not his own. He belongs to the Lord, bought at the price of His blood.
- Centred — self was once the aim of everything we did. Christ's death gives us a new Object to live for.
- Restrained — the believer I judge belongs to the same Lord. Judging him meddles with rights that are His.
- Held — this ownership reaches past the grave. Death cannot carry a believer beyond the Lord's keeping, and that comforts those who mourn.
- Connected — no Christian is without influence. Each hour either draws other believers closer to God or pushes them apart.
For both if we should live, [it is] to the Lord we live; and if we should die, [it is] to the Lord we die both if we should live then, and if we should die, we are the Lord's.
Believers were judging one another over their differences, and this verse answers them: a Christian belongs to the Lord in life and in death. That ownership does two things: it silences our judging, and it takes away the fear of death.
The dispute was real. This verse goes underneath it and names who both sides belong to.
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death. Living or dying, it is to Him. Whether one or the other, we are His. This rests on His dying and living — that is, in resurrection — the great doctrine of this letter and the basis of Christianity. So He is Lord of all, dead and living. That is why we must beware of interfering with His rights. "Why do you judge your brother? or why do you despise your brother?" We are forgetting our place and His when we turn either to the right or to the left.
This judging is not just unkind. It is a trespass on rights that belong to another Master.
What cannot be justified is neither the apparent narrowness of the one nor the apparent looseness of the other. It is taking up the role of judge — and that role belongs to no one but the great Master of us all. To that Master we stand or fall, and indeed we may count on His support.
The words "we are the Lord's" state ownership. That ownership had a price.
The principle is a simple one. It has its root in the very ground-truth of Christian doctrine. In God's judgment the cross has ended the believer's mortal life. It now leaves him no other life but Christ Himself. To Him, then, he lives, for in Him he lives. He lives (verse 8) because he is the Lord's, not his own. Living, therefore, or dying, he is the Lord's — His own, at the paid price of His most precious blood.
Verse 8 does not stand alone; the next verse supplies the reason Christ can claim both states. Writers link the two closely.
He is absolutely supreme. In His supremacy He claims our submission, and He claims it because of His love. So He lays it on our heart to do everything as to Him. Doing this will not only draw us closer to Himself, but also closer to one another.
But does this ownership only cover people who believe?
For in living or in dying, man is no independent creature, answerable only to himself. This principle applies most of all to the believer. He is the one who acknowledges the Lordship of Christ… Yet this Lordship is not only over believers. He is Lord of all.
The same ownership covers dying. So the verse speaks to grief as much as to disputes.
What comforting words these are for those whom the precious blood of Christ has redeemed! They can cry, "We are the Lord's." Death will not carry us beyond His reach. He will be our Lord still, for He is the Lord of both the dead and the living. And here is comfort for those who mourn their dead. They have passed beyond your sight, but not beyond His. They are no longer in your care, but He has them in His safe keeping… Death cannot rob Him of us. It cannot separate us from Him, or from the love of God that is in Him.
But holding this truth is not the same as living it.
It is a blessing to have right motives, and a right understanding of what conduct suits us. It is far more blessed to have carried out in practice what we see suits us as disciples… Does this not present a certainty of conduct, a steadiness of purpose, and a fulfilled desire, very unlike the Christianity common in our own day? … practical obedience is what the Lord looks for. Right motives and a right understanding of what to do have no value except as means to an end.
- Bought — The believer is the Lord's "at the paid price of His most precious blood." Ownership, not preference, grounds everything here.
- Both states — The claim covers living and dying alike. Christ died and rose to be Lord of the dead and the living.
- Hands off — A fellow believer belongs to Christ. To judge him is to interfere with rights that are not ours.
- Safe — Death does not carry the believer beyond His reach. Those who have died are still in His keeping.
- Obeyed — The truth is for practice. Right understanding counts only when it turns into obedience.
For to this [end] Christ has died and lived [again], that he might rule over both dead and living.
Paul has just said that believers belong to the Lord, living or dying. This verse gives the reason. Everything rests on two events: a death and a return to life. Together they won Christ a title — authority over both sides of the grave.
The phrase "to this end" points forward. It names an aim Christ set out to reach by dying. One writer notes that this aim goes well past the saving of His own people.
Here we are told of a purpose in the death of Christ. That purpose includes the special truth of the Church's redemption, but it goes far beyond it. Christ died to establish His dominion over the dead. The cross transferred the keys of death and Hades to the hands of Jesus. Through death He destroyed the one who had the power of death, that is, the devil. The final resurrection will prove it. Those who had no part in the first resurrection will come out at the voice of the Son of Man. They will bear unwilling witness to the glory of His power as Lord of the dead (Revelation 20:12).
How did He gain this right over the dead?
So far He alone has truly tasted death in its full reality, as the penalty of human sin. By the grace of God, He has tasted death. He died, and now the furthest chambers of the grave are under His hand. He will unlock them in due time by the word of His power. Christ died, then, to establish His right of dominion over the dead. By dying, He has made death His own for ever.
The lordship named here is not limited to those who accept it. One writer ties it to the place God has given Jesus since the cross. (An older translation reads "Christ both died, and rose, and revived." The title it gives Him is the same.)
He now holds the place of universal authority. The risen, ascended, glorified Man Christ Jesus is the Head of all rule and power. He has absolute lordship over every human being, living or dead. He died for all. He sent the gospel to all. He was patient with all. Now He is at God's right hand as "Lord of all." God set Him there, and set Him there justly.
For anyone grieving, His lordship over the dead stops being a doctrine and becomes comfort. Death changes who can see them, not who holds them.
Death will not carry us beyond His reach. He will be our Lord still, for He is the Lord of both the dead and the living. And here is comfort for those who mourn for their dead. They have passed beyond your sight, but not beyond His. They are no longer in your care, but He keeps them safe. They are still in His kingdom and under His Lordship, just as you are.
The argument between believers ends when you ask who owns whom. The answer is not the one doing the judging.
The truth is that we belong to Him, not to ourselves, either in life or in death. Living or dying, it is to Him. Either way, we are His. This rests on His dying and living again in resurrection — the great doctrine of this letter and the basis of Christianity. So He is Lord of all, dead and living. This is why one must beware of meddling with His rights.
That ownership has a daily effect. It decides whose opinion binds a believer's conscience.
In matters of personal behaviour and conscientious service to the Lord, Christ frees us from the lordship of our fellow believers by placing us under His own higher lordship. We may be right or wrong in our judgment. What matters most is that each of us, looking only to our Master, does what we believe pleases Him.
That authority is not cold. One writer notes that Christ claims this place because of His love. Doing everything to Him draws believers closer to Him and closer to one another (The Christian's Friend).
- Cause. Christ's death and return to life did more than rescue us. They won Him a title — rule over the dead and the living.
- Conquest. By dying He took death as His own possession, and the keys of death passed into His hands.
- Reach. That lordship covers every person, believer or not, since God set the risen Man at His right hand as Lord of all.
- Comfort. Death cannot move anyone out of His kingdom; those who have died are still under His Lordship and in His keeping.
- Result. We are His, not each other's. So we stop judging and despising one another. One Master rules each conscience, and He rules in love.